iWin
by inida relaques
Summary: It's her fault for breaking into his house anyway, right? Doesn't she know that he can overpower her now? And why can't she learn how to knock? What happens when Freddie is done letting Sam win their fights. 90% lemon, 10% plot, kinda non-con but not really, you've been warned, etc. Please r/r! Criticism is awesome.


A/N: Probably abandoning my last oneshot, so if you liked that, try this!  
100% lemon, definitely con but rough and playfully noncon, so don't read if you're not down with that. You have the choice, unlike Sam. I'd like to emphasize that, in the real world, this would be a disgusting premise morally, but it makes me laugh and is super hot (to me) and fiction!  
Someone commented on a totally non-bdsm related story of mine that things don't need to be degrading to be sexy and while that can be true, it's a lot better if it is... If you don't agree, get outta here. Or give it a try?

* * *

She was already regretting getting up from the couch.

Alone, in the dark, in the nub's living room, it was obvious that this could not end well. A few minutes ago, anything that wasn't watching another episode of Girly Cow after three straight seasons or going home sounded almost better than sleeping. And since sleep didn't come easy without Carly's chugging snores, she did anything. The most interesting anything, considering how easy it would be to pull off, would be to bother Freddie. Lying in her indent in the Shay couch, she could see an hour or two of eating his food, and maybe even inciting him into doing something worth hitting him for, being well spent. Of course, it was also very likely that he'd get himself worked up into a lather about something she didn't give one shit about and that would put her to sleep faster than Carly's breathing problems. That would really be the best outcome.

Now, after walking across the hall and picking the lock she could do in her sleep, it was painfully obvious that that wouldn't happen and it would be her fault, even though she could easily fulfill her plans. She could much more easily leave and he would never know she was here.

But she wasn't leaving. All that movement to get here, might as well sweep the place, right? His mom was gone for the weekend anyway and T-Bo would be long asleep by now. Freddie was probably asleep too. Might as well check, right?

Except light seeped out from under his door, flickering, a TV or his monitors. What could going in hurt? Eating his food in front of him would be more enjoyable anyway.

* * *

He didn't hear her come in, not the doorknob or her arrogant steps into his room, his sanctuary, right up to his chair. He didn't see her creep into the light that emanated from his monitors. He didn't even hear her quick intake of breath as all her sensory information turned into thoughts in her mind.

In his defense, he was wearing a headset.

No, his first clue that anyone was within 50 feet of him was Sam's throaty outburst of disgust and then his name, not in a tone he particularly wanted to hear, but one he wasn't unfamiliar with.

It was not what he was expecting during this jerk session, or any other for that matter.

His first instinct was to hide his shame, alt-tab to his desktop so Stoya and Sasha Grey would stop furiously tonguing each other, and escort her the fuck out of his house. And then deadbolt the door, finish, and cry himself to sleep. However, it wasn't the one he acted on.

It was delirium, he'd think later. He was drunk off the dopamine coursing through his veins and the ache of being interrupted just a little too close to the end. And she deserved it. What was she doing in his house looking like that, acting like that, being Sam in his room at night with his mother hundreds of miles away? With Carly and Spencer in Yakima? And T-Bo deaf to the world? He was stronger than her. They both knew it. He could do whatever he wanted to her.

Fuck, they both knew it. So, why was she here?

Maybe because the night would've been very different if she had shown up ten minutes before or another minute after. She would've been nasty, eaten his leftover barbeque, and slunk back to Carly's couch in an hour.

He did cover his shame though, mostly, as he pulled his pants back up. Of course, his lotion covered dick flopped out, but why bother putting it away when it felt better to press it against her? Even with part of himself exposed, this would be a fairest fight they'd had.

It didn't feel fair though, how quickly she folded. It didn't feel fair, and it certainly didn't feel real, how quickly her head was pressed against the edge of his bed, his legs pinning her there, her body in shambles on the floor, and his cock a solid inch past her tonsils. Nothing felt right about how every choke made his eyes roll skyward. But it was all happening and through the haze, he absentmindedly noticed her arm twitching and followed it down to where it disappeared in her pajamas.

He couldn't help but laugh. "I thought I was raping you." She tried to respond but it was lost somewhere in his dick.

"What was that?" He pressed her lips to his body. Her eyes narrowed. "Hm? Sorry, come again?"

Their eyes met and she stared bullets into him for a few, long seconds before she succumbed to her reflexes and choked.

"Oh, okay, I get it," he let her come a few inches up and she took the moment to breathe deeply through her nose, "You wanted my dick so bad you couldn't think straight, huh? You couldn't fucking stand being this close to me and not ending up with my load inside you, so you snuck over here to beg for it?" She rolled her eyes and he forced himself down her throat again. "You dirty slut."

"Don't worry, Sam. You don't have to beg. It's fine. Come suck my cock any time. My door's always open if you're willing to admit that you need it." She mumbled angry things into his abdomen.

"Wait, what did you say?" He pulled out of her mouth and she inhaled to speak, her face already contorting into one he knew she reserved to accompany the most cutting of insults.

"Freddie, I'm only-" was all she managed before he clamped his hand on her mouth.

"Shhhh, you don't wanna wake T-Bo, right?" He had barely finished the sentence when her teeth dug into his hand. Reflexively, he pulled his palm away from where it was painfully wedged and brought it against her face with more force than he'd ever had enough courage to show her. It was enough to make Sam Puckett flinch.

"Yeah, okay, slut. Like you haven't held me down and hit me harder and longer."

"Yeah, but you've deserved it," she spat, decibels lower, "Don't put your hand over my mouth if you don't want me to bite it."

"Funny how you're upset about my hand when you've been rolling your tongue around my dick."

He pulled her up from the floor despite her fighting, although she had no argument in response. And while he might have come close to losing his grip, when his body came down around hers, the strength difference was laughable. It was stupid how good it felt to finally have the upper hand, how it probably felt better than being about to fuck her. He had held back for so long after so much longer of always losing. The fact that this was actually coming to fruition, seeing Sam Puckett spread out beneath him whether she wanted to be there or not, and she clearly did... He had had so little faith that it would get this far. He was glad of two things: that her last boyfriend had gotten there first, because he was in no condition to be merciful, and that he had decided to edge for another five minutes.

One hand around her wrists and his legs over hers, it wasn't difficult to pull her pants down to her knees. So easy, he wondered why he had never done this before. If he could get her naked this easily, why hadn't this happened six months ago when they were still together? He found it hard to focus on the question, as the thoughts vanished somewhere between her thighs. He slid his fingers between her lips, going in blind in the darkness of his room, until, oh, there it was: warm and wet and urgently inviting. She squirmed beneath him, making beautiful noises, turns of her voice he had never imagined she could make in the absence of ham. His eyes went towards the ceiling at the prospect that the anticipation was hurting her just as badly.

Pressing his head against her opening, he leaned down, his body mirroring hers, and whispered into her ear. "Try not to moan too loudly, okay? I know how badly you want this." He pivoted his hips up and down, sliding through her wetness, and she attempted to buck but could barely move more than an inch in any direction. A throaty laugh escaped his lips before he realized what he was doing. It sounded miles away through the rushing in his ears. Sam, helpless, overpowered... by him of all people. It was comical. "You're gonna tire yourself out struggling like that. Come on, slut, I don't know why you're still pretending to resist."

She managed to twist her head to the side and found herself close enough to kiss him. "You really think I want you?" Defiant until the last syllable, he'd give her that, but right then - the quick inhale of breath, the flash of fear in her eyes as she averted her gaze - he knew she was a dirty liar.

He laughed again. She was so funny. All of this was hilarious, but he felt crazy laughing. "No," he thrust his hips forward and tried to catch himself before he gave away how good it felt, to finally be inside her and holy fuck was she still tight, but failing, moaned into her curls, "You need me."

Grabbing a handful of them and pulling hard as he sat up, he desperately pumped himself, smacking his abdomen against her so she could hear how wet she was, or maybe so he could hear it. He shrugged off the debate, as her back arched and he slammed his weight against it into the headboard, sliding his hand from her hair to her neck. Somewhere beyond the rushing of blood, he could hear her squeak in what he hoped was pleasure but couldn't be bothered to differentiate from pain. Probably both, although he couldn't decide right then whether he liked that option best.

All he could think about was how good it would feel to choke her and somehow his brain managed to piece together, in between strokes, that he could and she couldn't do a goddamn thing about it. Well, why not? He wasn't going to last much longer like this anyway.

He pulled out into the uninviting air, promising his body that this would only take a second and be completely worth it. Flipped onto her back, her eyes locked with his for just a moment before she found something more palatable in the distance, but the way her back arched as he jammed his cock back inside her told him she was lying to both of them. Although with a hand around her wrists above her head and another around her throat, it didn't particularly matter what she wanted. And fuck, the absence of her moans was even better.

"That's right, bitch. Your body belongs to me." Her eyes pleaded for release. "Even if you didn't need me so badly, I could have it anyway." He leaned down again, his lips an inch from hers, pushing his weight into her neck. Her thrashing was getting weaker. "Just give in. This is all you want."

Oh, it was urgent now. He had only seconds left.

"Fuck, shit, Sam..." She had nothing left to fight with. "Tell me you want my cum inside your worthless cunt. Tell me you want nothing else." His grip loosened and her eyes went up into her curls. While most of the noises coming from her mouth were desperate gasps for breath, she was beyond trying to hide the deep, throaty moans that fell between them. "Slut, tell me." His now free hand came down across her pretty face again.

"I want your cum so badly. Please, please..." Her voice faded away into nothingness. Or maybe she was just as loud. He couldn't tell as the room melted around them.

But somewhere... Where? Oh, there. It was her. She was laughing and his dick was surrounded by cold air again and he was lying next to her as she laughed and laughed and laughed. He couldn't help but notice that it sounded a little pained. That was nice.

"What? What are you laughing at?" His voice sounded a little pained too. Maybe he shouldn't consider it a victory in hers.

"Look at you. You think you won!" She was getting up, her pants already climbing back up around her waist. Stay, stay, his brain screamed at her, but his lips didn't move.

"I'm pretty sure I won. I feel like I won. My dick is convinced anyway."

"That's the sad part, Fredward. Stupid, stupid, little Freddie." She cocked her hip to one side. Her hand was already around the doorknob. "I'm getting exactly what I wanted. You're not."

"How did I not get what I wanted...?"

"See, here's the funny part. You did. I did too... but now I'm getting what I want and you're not." And with that she was out the door.

How did she know?

Fuck her.


End file.
